


I can feel my heart (it's falling like the stars)

by sprx77



Category: Naruto
Genre: A cute fic I swear, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Dragons, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Happy Ending, Itama and Izuna live, Itama is a dragon, Kawarama is there too, M/M, Naruto Rare Pair Bingo 2019, Non-Linear Narrative, Warring States Period (Naruto)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 19:47:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19069450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sprx77/pseuds/sprx77
Summary: Itama walks barefoot in the bare earth. He is of the deep things, the burning things. He has known for always that he is made for the heat, and the dark, and the deep-below.But the open air has wind, and the sun, and his brothers who smile at him.





	I can feel my heart (it's falling like the stars)

**Author's Note:**

> (Or: Itama adores fire. Enter Izuna)
> 
> Dragon! Itama. Dragonitamadragonitama!!DRagon!!Itama!!!
> 
> I loved this so much.

Itama walks barefoot in the bare earth. He is of the deep things, the burning things. He has known for always that he is made for the heat, and the dark, and the deep-below.

But the open air has wind, and the sun, and his brothers who smile at him.

As long as he can touch the earth, he is content.

He can feel the deep-below, the roiling fire, and the hearts of man.

When Tobriama puts his littlest brother to sleep, it’s not difficult. When he wants to keep the young boy busy, he need just light a fire and Itama will stare into it for hours.

(The first time Itama crawled to the fire, Tobirama was not quick enough. The sight and fear haunt him even now, years later; the relief he felt when the child did not burn.)

“I am certain the black-haired half, the red-eyed half, are Uchiha.” Said Tobirama one day, in abject disgust.

“What makes you say that, brother?” Hashirama had looked on in innocent curiosity.

Frustrated beyond words, Tobirama could only gesture.

Itama, in the hearth, stared at the fire and his own hands and purred.

-

At least Itama was self-sufficient. Kawarama turned every single one of his hairs white. Tobirama would swear his hair was once silver.

Itama did not burn, and so the fire was safe to him. He regularly thwarted Uchiha jutsu. Kawarama _did_ burn, yet he dodged by hairsbreadths, laughed wildly, whooped and sang and weaved through war with glee in his heart.

“I hate them _both_ ,” Tobirama snarled, as he wove through the throng, blade in hand and heart in his throat.

“You love us!” Itama corrected, joyful, and Hashirama drowned the entire battlefield in leaves.

-

Then, inevitably, Itama catches sight of the Uchiha heir.

Madara had taken over for his father, as Hashirama had taken over for Batsuma, and for months now the deaths were at an all time low.

And Itama sees Izuna.

Izuna is, sadly, Tobirama’s responsibility. They have clashed time and time again at a stalemate for literal years.

He knows Izuna better than he knows many of his cousins. Izuna is, in fact, one of his oldest relationships—even if that relationship is one of frustration and rivalry, undoubtedly enemies for all that their brothers preach peace.

When Itama sees Izuna, his brother stops moving.

At first he fears Itama has been caught in a sharingan, but no, actually, it’s much worse than that.

Izuna has just let out a gout of fire to dwarf the battle field itself, and Itama’s eyes had tracked the river to its source, adjacent Tobirama.

Oh, fuck.

“Oh, fuck.” He says out loud, and Izuna startles.

“What, it’s the same thing you do, but with fire. And better.”

Despite the severity of the situation, Tobirama rolls his eyes. And then his little brother is there.

Barefoot.

Smiling, radiant.

“You’re mine.” Says Itama, with all the certainty of an eighteen year old. He sounds wondering, awed. His teeth flash white. He sounds _certain_.

Tobirama already has a headache.

Izuna blinks, looks to Tobirama, and then takes the opportunity to fry one of the Senju. The bloodthirsty bastard.

Tobirama rubs the bridge of his nose as fire bathes his little brother, and when it dies, even his clothes are unhurt.

“So ruthless. What a good quality in a husband.” Itama has decided, and experience tells Tobirama he will never see _sense_.

“Well, if we’re to have peace, I might as well get a leg up on your annoying brother.” He tells Izuna, sheathing his sword.

Izuna sputters.

Hashirama, wishing for peace? Largely unlikely. Hashirama is an idealist, two hundred percent a fool. Tobirama would have to work himself to death every day of his life to achieve his brother’s dream.

Itama, though.

With Itama he might as well strap in and enjoy the ride.

Across the battlefield, Kawarama has figured out a way to trigger explosions. His laughter sings out.

Hashirama pauses in his battle with Madara, both of them looking over in confusion at the cessation of violence.

“Oh, but you’re _lovely_ ,” Says Itama, fearless as he moves into Izuna’s space. “The fire in you, the fire in you… “

He holds Izuna’s face in his hands like something precious—Izuna, who looks floored and shaken down to his core—and kisses him soundly.

Tobirama sits down.

Around them, the fighting dies down to embers. Madara is flabbergasted, Hashirama ecstatic.

“Instead of planning a village, we can plan a wedding!” Hashirama slaps him hard on the back before he can recover.

“Baby steps,” Tobirama acknowledges, under his breath.

Itama’s baby steps were straight into trouble, and now is nothing new.

He always adored dangerous things.

Izuna could be the crown jewel in his hoard, as long as Tobirama gets a _nap_.

-

Izuna does not kiss every random stranger who walks up to him with jewel bright eyes and claims him like a treasure.

Itama, though—Itama he has known since he was small.

Itama, an intense child with shining eyes and bare toes, who moved the earth and held fire in his hands, unflinching.

Itama, he could fall in love with.

Strange little boy from another world that he was, Itama fell right back.

“It’s this world, you know.” He had said, a week before their dramatic ‘first meeting’, while Izuna lays in the sun. Izuna turned to look at him, forging a sword with his bare hands. The heat of their secret forge deep in the mountains fanned out over the meadow.

“Hmm?” He asked, as he turns from his scroll.

“I’m not some creature from another world. It’s this world. You move the earth enough and there is fire down below, seeping and thick. It eats metal and it eats the earth.”

“How has it not consumed us?” Izuna asks, feeling the grass under his toes.

Here with Itama, who they have to be, what they have to be, falls away until they are just souls with flesh and wonder at the beauty of the world.

“Because I don’t let it,” And for a moment he is bigger than he should be, a weight that presses in on Izuna’s lungs. One eye is the molten core of the earth, the other a void in space.

“And also there’s lots of layers of dirt, and gravity, and some other stuff.” The dragon child shrugs and laughs, but Izuna doesn’t forget the magnitude with which his best friend speaks, the power that coils unassuming under his skin.

Maybe they’ll be able to sell this whole thing after all.

“Do you think they love us enough?” he asked, without meaning to at all, and the sound of beating metal stopped completely.

Itama is there between one breath and the next, hands like twin suns on his face.

“They love us more than anything,” He said, serious. “You’ll see.”

He leaned his forehead against Itama’s, breathing out all his stress and worry.

“You’re very shiny,” Says Itama, idly, as he uses one hand to pet Izuna’s hair. Izuna is startled into laughter, though he’s heard this before. Itama had said as much and more in the three years it took to convince him to agree to the scheme of the ages.

“ _So_ shiny,” Itama says, two weeks later, smile pleased and eyes gleaming with victory. He pets Izuna’s hair, thrilled beyond the telling, in their wedding suite.

“Yes, I’m a very great prize. A trophy husband as your reward for bringing peace to the kingdom.”

“Mmmh,” Itama grins, and though their ruse is done he drops a searing kiss to Izuna’s soft mouth, parted in surprise. “I do get you as my husband. You agreed. It has happened.”

Izuna’s brain does a manual reboot after the kiss, shockingly hot and utterly unexpected in the privacy of their room.

“Wait, what?”

“Surprise, I love you.” Itama grinned, the cat that got the canary. “And now we’re married and the clans are at peace, and everyone lives.”

Izuna shakes his head, startled as he takes in the events and the end result.

“It was supposed to be pretend,” He huffs, amused into his best friend’s lips. Itama hums again, obviously pleased.

“Whoops.”

“You’re impossible.” He tells his impossible husband, who has indeed married him and brought peace to their lands. Itama looks unrepentant.

“Didn’t you know? Dragons always kidnap princes. And they live happily ever after.” A soft nose nuzzles into his cheek, occasionally pressing a kiss there. Izuna can feel the flash of teeth as his best friend smiles.

“I think you’re missing a few steps.” He corrects, just to hear a whine. He’s not disappointed.

“Shut up, like you could do any better.”

Izuna runs his hands along the shoulders and back of his dragon partner, enjoying the way his eyes fall shut and a purr slides from his throat, as he leans into the motion.

Well, ne never thought of Itama that way—had never let himself, _somehow_ ; it was probably all the child soldiers and bloodshed and war heavy on his heart—but now that Itama has _said something_ it’s all he can see, all he can think about.

And, hell. It’s their wedding night.

Their wedding _bed_.

Izuna shivers all over and shifts so that he’s pressing his husband—husband!—down into the mattress.

Itama goes still, all wide eyed pleasure and unblinking dares.

“Silly Itama,” He says, pressing kiss upon kiss into his mouth. “Didn’t you know you’re mine, too?”

And Itama shivers like that was _exactly_ the right thing to say.

The prince claims the dragon’s lips in a kiss like fire, and the dragon’s hands hold onto his hips and, most importantly, the dragon _never lets_ go. Peace falls over the kingdom like springtime, unfamiliar and new.

They live happily ever after.

**Author's Note:**

> leave me alonneeeee about the title it just stuck. I feel bad because i could have milked the dragon thing for a ballin' title, but here we are.


End file.
